


domesticity across worlds

by CrayolaRainbow



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Season/Series 04, Recovery, Sharing Clothes, it technically was when i first posted, sigh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-01-06 01:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrayolaRainbow/pseuds/CrayolaRainbow
Summary: The first steps of his recovery were basic: things like cutting and washing his hair, eating properly, sleeping on a regular schedule, all the things that The Monster didn’t do because it hadn’t known any better. The steps after that were much bigger and took much longer.Reacclimating himself with the Physical Kids cottage and not feeling claustrophobic sitting in the lounge was one of them.Or: Recovery is a process. Some days are better than others.





	1. Patient and Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> This was/is supposed to be much fluffier and domestic than it ended up being. More fluff will come, I swear.
> 
> This isn't quite angst, but it isn't all fluff all the time. Eliot spends the majority of this chapter ruminating over the last couple of months of his recovery.

Eliot Waugh was not a patient or faithful man before The Monster.

Wasn’t patient, needed to do things _now_. Even as a child, waiting for for the crops to grow in the long summers, for spring to come after the long Indiana winters, he wanted it to happen _now_. 

Wasn’t faithful in his relationships, wasn’t faithful to his friends, didn’t have faith in his friends and their ability to save the world.

The mosaic had mellowed him out some, gave him the patience through finishing the puzzle, and faith that their efforts weren’t for naught. But getting shoved back into the rush of the key hunt, followed immediately by the desperation to keep Quentin from playing babysitter to the monster had snatched his patience and faith away from him. If he didn’t stop the monster _now_ , didn’t do it his way, then Quentin would be lost to him forever.

He had to be patient and faithful trapped in his own body.

Patient as he waited for his friends, his _family_ to save him. Patient as he went through horrible memory after horrible memory trying to find the damn door.

Faithful that they would save him. That Quentin understood. _Proof of concept. Peaches and plums._ Faithful that he’d get out and have the opportunity to be _brave._

Eliot had to be patient and faithful in his post Monster world.

Patient in his recovery, and faithful that he _would_ recover.

~~~

Eliot’s been using the past few months to recover, both body _and_ mind. The first steps of his recovery were basic: things like cutting and washing his hair, eating properly, sleeping on a regular schedule, all the things that The Monster didn’t do because it hadn’t known any better. The steps after that were much bigger and took much longer.

Reacclimating himself with the Physical Kids cottage and not feeling claustrophobic sitting in the lounge was one of them. Re-lighting the space so it looked less gloomy helped, but sometimes Eliot still gets a spike of fear that, _this isn’t real, I’m trapped, I’m trapped, let me out, **please** let me out,_ and has go into the outside world and take a walk around to remind himself that yes, this is real. He’s not trapped. There’s no monsters, and he can leave whenever he wants. Sometimes he leaves in the middle of a conversation and doesn’t bother to make his excuses, knows that the important people in his life knows why he's doing it, and fuck anyone else.

His friends understand and don’t say anything about it as he goes. Just ask if he's okay both verbally and nonverbally when he gets back. Occasionally one of them will go out to find him if he’s been gone for too long. Not to bring him back in, but to make sure nothing has happened to him.

Eventually he’ll make his way back inside and every time, someone has something waiting on the counter for him to drink, or a snack for him to eat. An open invitation to talk if he wants. Eliot appreciates it more than he can ever say. He has the best, most patient and faithful family of friends in the world.

~~~

Eliot jogs now, something he hadn't done before. The ability to get up and go whenever he wanted and the feeling of running away from all his troubles, if only for a couple hours, is incredibly freeing.

He didn't bother to buy his own workout gear, just threw together something semi-appropriate from his friend’s closets. Usually Quentin or Margo, but sometimes from the rest of the gang too. On one memorable occasion, he’d borrowed a pair of short shorts from Margo’s closet without looking, only to realize after he’d gotten back that they had “Juicy” written on the butt. His return was met with raucous laughter and he wore them proudly for the rest of the day.

And if Quentin and Margo secretly added things to their closets that would fit Eliot, well, he didn’t need to know that.

Most of the reason he didn’t buy his own work out gear was because it was so much fun to steal other people’s clothes. But a smaller, non inconsequential part of it was because of The Monster and his shitty fashion sense. 

Eliot had tried to buy “workout gear”, some simple cotton shorts and t-shirts. He’d gravitated towards the funny graphic tees without even realizing it and had dropped them like they were hot coals when Quentin gently pointed it out. He’d walked out of the store without a second glance. They never ended up getting around to just buying some shorts and plain tees before it became habit to steal other people’s clothes.

They did go out again not long after The Incident to buy him some proper running shoes. Quentin respectfully bowed out of this trip, leaving just Eliot and Margo. They’d had a blast browsing the mall and buying way more things than they originally planned, nearly forgetting to buy the running shoes they were there for in the first place.

Eliot pretended not to notice the increase of shorts in Quentin’s wardrobe that just _happened_ to appear after Eliot started jogging and _just happened_ to have enough stretch to fit them both.

Quentin’s shirts though? Just fine. They were darker than any shirts The Monster wore and none of them had stupid jokes. More often than not, they were things like his Superman shirt or his Ravenclaw house pride shirt. Or, most notably, his collection of Fillory and Further t-shirts. One of Eliot’s favorite pictures of Quentin is a candid Eliot took before everything went to shit, of him wearing one of his Fillory and Further shirts, in Fillory, wearing his crown, while draping himself across Eliot’s throne, reading Fillory and Further book four.

~~~

The gang gets him a “Congrats on being monster free for six months!!” present. Well, they throw him a party too, but with the party comes the gift. It’s not much of a party, not like the kind they used to have in the physical kids cottage. It’s more like “movie night but the whole day with extra bonus more alcohol than usual.” But there is a banner and cake, so it counts as a party in Eliot’s books.

They’re having it at Kady’s loft, a kind of second base for their group Earth side. Between the loft and the Cottage, Kady’s loft is the better of the two for movie night. She’s got a projector _and_ blackout curtains that actually work and block out _all_ the light, leaving the room all dark and cozy.

Eliot spends the day smooshed in the middle of the couch, Quentin on one side, Margo on the other, Julia on the other side of Quentin, and Fen on the other side of Margo. They’re piled under all of the most comfortable blankets and quilts from the physical kids cottage and Eliot couldn’t be happier. 

They all gather around Eliot in the kitchen during one of their many snack and drink refill breaks and hand him a little box.

Inside is a medallion, about the size of Margo’s palm. Eliot gasps when he sees the design. 

One one side of the medallion is an image of their cottage at the mosaic imprinted into the metal, with a border of peach and plum blossoms and peaches and plums along the outside. On the other side is the physical kids cottage, the TADA sign over it like a banner, and to the right of the cottage is the building the loft is in.

Quentin lifts the medallion out of the box and places it in Eliot’s hands. “Um, so what this does is it teleports you between the physical kids cottage or the loft and the mosaic, but that’s a bit too far away from the castle to be convenient, so, if you you rub here-“ Quentin points to the tiny Castle Whitespire poking out from behind one of the peach trees in the background. “-you’ll teleport to the castle instead, in antechamber near the throne room.”

Eliot feels tears start pricking at the corner of his eyes and he blinks his eyes rapidly in an effort to make them go away. He’s not going to cry today, no matter how awesome his family is.

Quentin presses the medallion into Eliot’s hand and closes Eliot’s fingers over it. “This,” he says, tapping Eliot’s fingers, “is so you can come and go from Fillory as you please. You don’t have to wait for Penny, and this avoids the feeling of using one of your friends as a taxi service between worlds. It works from anywhere, on any plane. And more importantly: you don’t have to share if you don’t want to. None of us are going to ask to borrow it, it’s all yours. The rest of us have to live with the feeling of using one of our friends as a glorified taxi service. We don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck in Fillory or stuck in the physical kids cottage ever again.”

“Q, I-“ Eliot sniffles. Damn it, he’s definitely crying now. Eliot pulls Q into a hug, hand still fisted around the medallion and buries his face into Quentin’s neck to hide the tears.

A smaller hand starts rubbing his back as Quentin just holds him. “Hey, it’s okay,” Margo says. “What, did you think we were going to bring you back to Fillory without giving you an exit strategy? Think again, hot stuff.”

Eliot stands up after a moment, leaning half on Quentin and half on the counter behind them. Margo keeps her hand on his back and pulls Eliot into a loose side hug. Eliot puts his hand out, medallion resting in the middle of his palm. “How does it work?”

Quentin carefully takes it from his hand, and someone, Julia, maybe? puts a tissue in his hand before sliding the whole tissue box over.

“The way it works is through intent. You rub your thumb over the place you want to go and think really hard, and poof, you’ll be there.”

“Poof?” Eliot asks, cracking a smile

Margo smiles. “Poof.”

Quentin grins. “Poof.” They all start giggling and Quentin snorts, making them laugh even harder.

“You dorks,” Julia says, smiling. “Come on. Let’s go finish Eliot’s crash course of media he missed from 2018.”

Eliot perks up immediately. “You are so right. I’m sorry babe, Freddy Mercury is calling my name, I have to go.” He dramatically pulls away from Quentin, holding his hand until the last possible second before turning back to the living room, climbing over the back of the couch to take his seat.

Quentin laughs. “Wait for me!”


	2. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot makes a few new friends and gets showered with gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Uh. It took me a lot longer to actually post this chapter than I planned. Sorry! Life, y'know.
> 
> When I first wrote this, episode 10 wasn't even out yet. There are no references to the last three episodes, nor will there probably ever be.
> 
> Thanks to my amazing beta, MaikaMaika, who read this without watching the show, and still thought it was comprehensible. Thanks Maika!!!
> 
> See if you can catch the 100% unintentional Trixie Belden reference of all things in here. And a highfive if you actually know wtf I'm even talking about in the first place.

Fillory is… a lot to handle in his new post Monster state of being. To be fair, it’s always been a lot to handle since the moment he first set foot in Fillory. But post Monster, everything feels heightened up to 11. The rush of it all is overwhelming sometimes, and Eliot has to take a moment or two or 50, more times than he cares to admit, even to Quentin or Margo. He’s become intimately acquainted with the quiet nooks and crannies of the castle over the past few weeks.

Eliot’s started spending a lot more time in the kitchens too. He avoids Josh like the plague when he goes down there. Not because he doesn’t like the guy, but because he just doesn’t want to talk about why he’s down there. Josh is great, but he doesn’t always understand that Eliot doesn’t want to talk to anyone, at least not until there’s been an awkward exchange, which defeats the whole purpose of not talking to anyone. Eliot calls upon his forgotten memories of avoiding cheek pinching aunties and the coos of the women from church to assist. He’s gotten quite good at it.

Eliot weaves his way through the castle, around busy and not so busy people going about their days. He catches the eye of one of his informants, Eloise, who gives him a slight nod. Not out of respect for her former High King, but to let him know that, as far as she knows, the kitchen is clear of one Josh Hoberman. 

One perk of spending all this time exploring the castle and avoiding the important higher ups in the council is that he’s met several people who are doing the exact same thing. From servants to cooks to even some members of the council themselves, Eliot’s gained a lot of allies in his efforts to avoid people. Quentin calls them his Whitespire Irregulars. Some of them make excellent nook-mates as they wait out the chaos for as long as possible before jumping back into the fray. They never talk about their jobs, nor does he want to. Instead, he learns bits and pieces of them and their families as they recover from the hustle and bustle together.

~~~ 

Eloise’s baby has had a nasty case of croup the past few days. Eliot surprised both of them when he offhandedly offered up a solution that worked with Teddy. Eliot, surprised because he remembered it at all, and Eloise because A. He actually had a suggestion, and B. That it actually seemed to work. She found him in one of the nooks in the bedroom wing of the castle on Monday to tell him the news.

“How did you know it would work?” Eloise demanded, blocking the torch light drifting into the nook Eliot was hiding in. Damn, he knew his feet sticking out was a dead giveaway, but he was too engrossed in his book to bother moving them. 

“Hm?” Eliot looked up from the copy of Sorcerer’s Stone he was re-reading. His iPod was currently charging back on Earth and he had grabbed Julia’s copy of Sorcerer’s Stone off the coffee table to keep him busy in Fillory while he waited. 

“How did you know that spell would work? How did you know the humid air would help with the cough?” Eloise demanded. She put her hands on her hips. 

Eliot froze. “My mother-” he tried to say, but Eloise cut him off. 

“ _Bull_ shit. You’re from earth, your mother didn’t have magic. How. Did. You. Know.” She accentuated each word with a sharp jab of her pointer finger against his chest. “This isn’t the first time you’ve made a suggestion either. How do you know so much about babies and children as a man without any.” 

“Keep your voice down,” Eliot hissed and pulled her farther into the nook, as non-threateningly as possible. He turned his body so his back was to oncomers, but in a way that there was an obvious gap for Eloise to leave if she so chose. He didn’t want her to feel trapped by him and his larger form, especially when he was looming over her like this. It’s something he’d always been aware of, but after the Monster, Eliot made a conscious effort to come off as unthreatening as possible. He was sick and tired of his friends flinching away from him without even realizing it. It made Eliot think of his father every time, and he hated it. 

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me two things.” Eliot said, panicking. He could practically feel the eyes of nosy servants boring in behind them, their ears tuned in to the noise of someone arguing with former High King Eliot. He was almost certain there was nobody in this dead end hallway on the other side of the castle from anything exciting, but you could never be too sure. 

Eloise crossed her arms and looked him in the eyes, a defiant tilt to her head. “What is it?” 

“You can’t tell this to anyone. Not your partners, not your family, and certainly not your coworkers. I can count on two hands the number of people who know. You. Can’t. Tell. Anyone.” Eliot mirrored her finger jabs, although with a lot less force than hers had been. 

“Alright, I agree. Now tell me,” she said, arms still crossed and chin still defiant. She reminded him of Margo and Kady, and honestly all of his female friends. He really had a type, didn’t he. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eliot said, shaking his finger. “Not right now. Too many prying eyes and ears in the castle. How about Friday, at your place? I’m going to tell Quentin that I’m telling you, and he’ll probably want to come, is that all right?” 

“Okayyyy?” Eloise said, brow furrowed. “Mart and Di have been itching to go to the tavern. They haven’t wanted to leave me alone with a croupy baby. If you come by around 7, they should be long gone by then and the baby won’t have gone down yet if you want to meet him.” Eloise turned to go and paused foot still in the air. She turned her head back towards Eliot. “Oh, I almost forgot! What was the second thing you wanted me to promise?” 

Eliot grinned. “I get to hold the baby while I tell you, of course.”

~~~ 

Eliot made his way down the stairs to the kitchen quickly, artfully dodging people coming up the opposite direction. He could already smell whatever they were making for dinner, probably pot roast, from the top of the stairs, and the smell only gets better and better the closer he gets. The air gets warmer the further down he descends, but it’s nothing compared to the wave of hot air that hits him as he opens the door to the kitchen.

The hum of conversation and clank of dishes washes over Eliot like a blanket. Eliot attempts to make a beeline to the pastry table but gets distracted by all the other delicious food on the way. He dances around all the other people in the room, taking a carrot here, a piece of pot roast there, a couple of biscuits from the basket on the corner, before reaching his destination. He loads up on flaky pastries and tiny cakes before retreating to one of the quieter, stiller parts of the chaotic kitchen. 

He’s half covered from any outside eyes, nestled in between sacks of flour and the potato bin. He sits down on the straw-covered floor, pastries gathered in his lap. Eliot puts his headphones in and pushes play on the iPod Quentin bought him while Eliot was recovering from the Monster. 

Eliot hadn’t been able to do a whole lot of anything for a while there. He was limited to games he could play in bed, TV, and books for entertainment. TV and books were hard to concentrate on, _and_ books were a lot of work to hold up. A week post Monster and Eliot was going stir crazy.

~~~ 

A week and a half into his recovery, Eliot awoke from his nap on the couch to a bunch of loud whispering in the kitchen. Eliot sat up, wincing all the way.

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

The whispers stopped immediately. 

“Nothing!” Julia called back. 

“Uh huh,” Eliot said. “So you guys won’t mind if I get up and join this riveting conversation?” 

“Um,” Julia said. She looked towards Quentin, both of them looking sheepish. 

Margo sighed. “Honestly, you two.” She walked over to the couch. “We’re discussing plans for the day. Quentin wants to make a grocery run, but Julia and I both have opinions on what he should get and want to go with to make sure he doesn’t cock it up. But none of us want to leave you at the apartment alone, hence the conversation.” 

“I’ll just come with you then,” Eliot said. He could use a change of scenery; he was dying of boredom. His brain might melt if he had to watch another god awful HGTV re-run. Thank goodness for Marina and her never-ending cable and internet plan. 

Between all the time and Fillory and the lack of a proper job making real world money since who knows when, none of them had Netflix or Hulu or any other streaming service. And yeah, they could pirate, but it was too much of a pain in the ass to hook up a laptop to the TV and download stuff that wasn’t chock full of malware. Antivirus helped, both magical and non-magical, but it was still a pain in the ass. 

So instead Eliot had to suffer through HGTV and Food Network re-runs, flipping back and forth in an endless cycle. Sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning or late at night, he’d spice it up and watch the Disney Channel re-runs of the shows he watched when he was younger, back when Disney Channel was still good. 

“Eliot, you can barely sit up without hurting yourself,” Margo said. “You’re gonna stay right here. One of us can stay behind.” 

“No, no, you should all go. I’ll be fine by myself. I’m a big boy.” 

“Honey, you must be delusional if you think that any of us are going to leave you alone for a long, long while.” 

Eliot sighed and resigned himself to his bored existence. Ah well, it was worth a shot. 

They end up making Penny stay with him. Eliot is alone for all of about 30 seconds before Penny pops back in. 

“I’m gonna be in my room. Holler if you need anything,” Penny said before disappearing down the hall. 

Eliot pouted to himself. HGTV and Food Network were so much better if you could critique the hosts and the stupid homeowners and contestants with a friend. 

Penny wandered back into the living room a couple episodes later and took up residence in the yellow chair. They watched a few more episodes together and Eliot had fun watching and yelling at the TV over people’s stupidity with Penny. He knew they’d never talk about this once the rest of the gang got home, but it was fun while it lasted In all honesty, Eliot was actually starting to like Penny23. 

Penny bowed out around the fourth or fifth episode to go get the girls and Quentin. There was a lot of whispering and rustling of bags as they returned and hastily made their way down the hall towards the bedrooms. Penny took back his seat in the yellow chair. 

“What the hell are they even doing?” Eliot asked. 

“Don’t worry about it, man. You’ll find out soon enough,” Penny replied. 

“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” Eliot said sarcastically. 

“It’s fine. You wanna start the episode?” Penny settled back into the yellow chair. 

“Fine.” Eliot hit the play button and resumed the episode of Cutthroat Kitchen he had just started before they popped back in. 

Eliot and Penny were about halfway through the episode before Eliot heard the sound of- was that gift bags? 

It was. Quentin, Julia, and Margo made their way into the living room, each carrying a gift bag. Margo’s was the biggest, the size of a pizza box and three times as deep. It was red with HAPPY BIRTHDAY written across the top in white with rainbow polka dots. 

Julia had the next biggest, an average-sized bag with mounds of tissue paper coming out the top. Eliot couldn’t quite make out the text, but he was pretty sure it had a picture of the Millennium Falcon with a little quote bubble that said “Close the window, do you want to air condition the whole galaxy?” 

Quentin’s was the smallest, a tiny gold gift bag with a little puff of blue tissue paper coming off the top like flames. 

The three of them set their bags on the coffee table. 

Eliot sat himself up on the couch with a bit of effort. “Is it my birthday and no one told me?” he asked. It was only partially a joke. Between Fillory, the Monster, and all the other shit that had happened in the past few years, he genuinely wasn’t sure what season it was most days, let alone what month. They still tried for Christmas, but birthdays were a crapshooter. 

“No, we just wanted to get you something nice,” Margo said. Oh, well, that was a relief. He was pretty sure he was closer to 30 than 20 at this point and he nearly shuddered visibly at the thought. 

“Several somethings, apparently,” Eliot said, smiling. “Is there an order I should open these in or can I just go wild?” 

“Open them smallest to largest,” Julia said and slid Margo’s bag over. 

It felt like an endless stream of rainbow tissue paper, like the gift bag edition of pulling hankies out of a clown’s pocket. Or a magician’s pocket. Eventually Eliot got to the end and pulled out a rectangle wrapped in, what else, tissue paper. Eliot tore into the tissue paper like it was Christmas day. 

Eliot gasped. “Holy shit, you guys bought a Switch?” Eliot turned the box in his hands. “This is amazing.” 

“Here, open this next,” Margo said, handing Eliot Julia’s bag. 

Eliot didn’t bother pulling out the tissue paper, just dug down to the bottom. The tissue paper fell to the ground as Eliot pulled out his prize. 

“We got you some games to play and some extra controllers so we can play with you,” Quentin said excitedly. “We got Stardew Valley, Mario Kart, Mario Odyssey, Super Smash Bros-” 

Margo cut Quentin off. “Smash Bros will have to wait until you are completely healed. We don’t want you pulling your stitches because you got too into it. Think of it like an incentive to get better soon so we can kick your ass.” 

“Wow Bambi, you’re too kind. Glad to know you’re looking out for me.” Eliot smirked. “But bold of you to assume that I won’t be kicking your asses.” 

“Girls girls, you’re both pretty. Save the posturing for when Eliot’s healthy and can follow up on his threats,” Julia said. 

“Hey-” 

“And besides, who says I won’t be kicking your ass.” Julia smiled. “Here, open the last one,” Julia said. 

Quentin passed the little gold bag over. “I hope you like it,” he said nervously. 

Margo smacked his arm lightly. “Shut up, he’s going to love it.” She turned her attention back to Eliot. “Go on, open it.” 

Eliot pulled the little puff of blue tissue paper off the top and peeked inside. He tilted the bag and dumped the present inside onto his hand. It was a blue iPod and a pair of purple earbuds. 

“I downloaded a bunch of audio books and music onto it. The idea is, since it doesn’t need to constantly be hooked up to the Internet, it should work in Fillory too, if or when you go back. It also has a battery like a horse; this thing lasts forever between charges. We could also maybe get you a solar powered portable charger for when you’re in Fillory,” Quentin rambled. Eliot waited for him to finish. 

Quentin held out a hand and listed things out on his fingers. “It has all the Harry Potter books, all the Discworld books, Good Omens, Percy Jackson, and a whole lot of other stuff too, not just fantasy. I didn’t put the Fillory and Further books on there, I didn’t think you’d want them. I _do_ have them if you want them though. I can show you how to add more audio books and music for yourself later today. Um. The music is mostly 80s, but there’s also a lot of musicals and My Chemical Romance on there too. And some modern pop stuff.” Quentin took a deep breath. “I hope you like it,” he said shyly. “I know you’ve been having a hard time reading physical books, so I thought maybe listening to them would be easier.” 

“Holy shit, Q. Holy shit,” Eliot said. “This is amazing, of course I love it! Get your ass over here so I can hug you. All of you.” 

They did a group hug, careful not to hurt Eliot. It was fantastic, if a little on the awkward side.

~~~ 

The sound of the voice of the narrator for the Harry Potter books washes over Eliot’s ears and he shuts his eyes. He‘s almost done with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and he understands so many more references now.

Eliot tries to keep from dozing off, but the voice is just too soothing. Eliot fights the drifting, but he can’t hold back. He‘s nearly asleep when: 

“Oh, Eliot, what are you doing down here?” 

Eliot’s eyes fly open at the sound of Josh Hoberman right in front of him and he scrambles to his feet. 

“I, um,” Eliot stammers. “What are _you_ doing down here? They told me you weren’t here.” Eliot mentally facepalms himself. He’s clearly spending too much time around Quentin if he was coming up with witty rebuttals like that. 

“Well, I was gone, but then I came back. The meeting with Margo and the chef’s union didn’t take as long as we thought. But that doesn’t explain why you’re down here and apparently trying to avoid me!” Josh says. 

“I needed a quiet place to escape to and listen to my audio book.” Eliot says impatiently. God, can’t Josh just take a fucking hint. 

“So you picked the kitchen. Where there’s 50 people rushing all around you?” Josh asks loudly. “How is that in any way a quiet place to relax in? Why not go chill in your bedroom or the library?” 

God, so many fucking questions. Why couldn’t anyone today understand that he didn’t want to answer any fucking questions! That wasn’t his job anymore! 

Eliot bursts. “Well, for one thing, I like the people rushing around! There _is_ such a thing as too quiet.” Eliot‘s voice gets faster. “My bedroom is too quiet and open, the library is too quiet and people keep trying to talk to me, and everywhere else in this fucking castle someone keeps trying to strike up a conversation or bring me their problems, or tell me the solution they’ve come up with for some minor farming issue on the southern side of the country! Fillorians don’t seem to understand the concept of not talking to someone wearing headphones, weird, right? At least in the kitchen all 50 of those people are too busy doing their own jobs to talk to me! And there’s free food whenever I get peckish,” Eliot finishes lamely. 

“Alright, that’s fair. The free food is a pretty good perk if I do say so myself. Still doesn’t answer the question of why you seem to be avoiding me though.” 

“Look Josh. I like you. You’re dating my best friend, my soulmate, you’re one of my quest mates. But sometimes you have a hard time taking a hint and knowing when people don’t want to talk. And when I come down to the kitchens, 99% of the time, I don’t want to talk.” 

“Oh,” Josh said. 

“Yeah, oh. Look, I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your space and corner of the castle. I can just go. I’ll find somewhere else to listen to my audio book and escape the throngs of adoring fans.” Eliot headed towards the door. 

“Eliot, wait. You don’t have to find a new spot. You can stay right here. How’s about this,” Josh said. “You say hey to me on your way in when you feel like talking, and you can just nod or something when you don’t feel like talking. In return, you can keep coming down to the kitchens and mooching off the kitchen staff, as long as you stop avoiding me all together. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Eliot sticks out his hand for a handshake. Josh takes it and they shake. “But is it really mooching if it’s your own castle?” 

“It is since you’re no longer High King.” 

Eliot scoffed. “Try telling that to the people in the castle who keep telling me shit instead of Margo or Fen.” 

Josh sighed. “What dicks. Anyway, I gotta get back to my cheese and ham souffle before it collapses.” With that Josh left just as quickly as he came, grabbing a couple potatoes from the bin as he left. 

“What a weird guy,” Eliot muttered to himself as he sat back down. As he leaned up against the sacks of flour, he hit play, and the dulcet tones of Harry Potter filled his ears as the kitchen faded away to a murmur in the background. Eliot cleared his mind and didn’t let himself think about anything other than Harry Potter. No friend drama, no relationship issues, no kingdom in need, no quests. Just Harry.

~~~ 

Later that week, when Friday rolled around, Eliot and Quentin made their way out of the castle, making their excuses to Margo, Fen, and Josh as to why they couldn’t join them for an after dinner round of drinks. True to form, Quentin was tagging along with Eliot to Eloise’s house. The man just could not resist a baby.

The horizon was bathed in the colors of peaches and plums scattered across the night sky. Dusk had settled over Fillory and the final rays of sunlight bathed the town of Wardscale in deep purples and dark shadows. A breeze blew through the streets of the Lamplighter’s District, sending a shiver down Eliot’s body. Damn, he wishes he’d brought a coat. The heat of the day was making way for the crisp evening breeze, not quite late enough in the year for the heat to continue through the night. 

The final frost of the year had only come a few weeks ago and Fillory was in a tizzy over planting season. Much of the hustle and bustle in Castle Whitespire over the past couple of weeks was directly related to planting season. Not enough seeds, not the right seeds, what fertilizer goes to what farm. Eliot wants to hurl just thinking about it. He pulls Quentin closer without thinking, as if he can use him to shield himself from memories of Indiana. 

The town is still populated this time of day, although the crowds go down the longer they walk. Probably off to eat dinner and bed down for the night. Eliot takes Quentin’s hand, and somewhere between the Lamplighter’s District and Ember’s Ward, where Eloise and her family live, one of them starts swinging their hands between them. 

Eliot is sure he has a dopey grin on his face by the time they get to Eloise’s house. As he walks up the steps he schools his face into something a little more former High King-ly and a little less lovey dovey idiot. 

Eliot knocks on the door while Quentin hangs back on the street instead of up on the doorstep with Eliot. It’s only polite considering he had kinda sorta invited himself along. He knew that Eloise knew it might happen, but still. They wanted to give her one last opportunity to turn them away. Two powerful men for a multitude of reasons inviting themselves into a servant’s house after swearing her to secrecy was sketchy even on a good day. 

There’s a pause after he knocks, and Eliot can hear the soft shuffling of someone moving to the door. The door opens a crack, still bound by the chain lock. Eloise peeks through the gap. Eliot gives her a little wave and her face brightens in recognition. The door shuts in Eliot’s face and he hears the metallic clink and slide of the chain lock being unlocked before the door opens revealing Eloise in all her glory. 

“Come in, come in,” she says, gesturing for them to come inside. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your fancy nobleman clothes, though I suppose you haven’t dressed down much, now have you.” 

Eliot looks down at his outfit. He’d attempted to dress himself down so he didn’t look like a former high king in his gaudy Fillorian outfits. He was _only_ wearing a vest, tie, button up…. okay, he could see where she was coming from. 

Eloise, on the other hand, was wearing an adorable dress with a cherry blossom pattern. A stark contrast to the standard servants uniform Eliot usually saw her in. 

“Did King Quentin end up coming? I don’t see him.” Eloise craned her neck in an attempt to spot Quentin around Eliot’s tall frame. 

Eliot stepped to the side so she could see Quentin. “Yeah, he came. We didn’t want to crowd the doorstep, so he waited by the curb.” 

Quentin gave an awkward little wave and a smile. 

Eloise beamed. “Oh, hello! Are you coming in or what? You’re letting all the cold air in, get in here before the baby catches a chill.” 

Eloise holds open the door for them as they walk in, Quentin skipping up the steps to get in faster. She shuts and locks the door behind them. 

Inside the house is small and cozy. It’s the fantasy Fillorian equivalent of a one-bedroom apartment in the city. Cozy, small, but livable and homey. There’s a fire going and the scent of whatever they had for dinner still lingers in the air. 

“Take a seat. I’ll go get the baby.” Eloise taps one of the chairs before turning the corner. “That one’s mine.” 

Eliot and Quentin take seats next to each other on the couch, Q on the end closer to the fireplace, and Eliot next to the overstuffed chair that Eloise had claimed as hers before leaving. 

Eloise returns a few moments later with the baby and hands him over to Eliot. Quentin immediately slides over from where he’s been staring into the fire, like the baby is a magnet and he’s a paper clip. 

“Oh, he’s so cute, yes you are, yes you are,” Quentin says to the baby in the same idiotic tone he’d used with Teddy when he was that age. He tickles the baby and he squeals. Quentin turns his attention to Eloise. “What’s his name?” 

“Finn,” Eloise says as she sits down in the overstuffed armchair next to Eliot. 

“ _Hi,_ Finn!” 

“Q, focus.” 

“Right, sorry.” Quentin pulls away reluctantly from the baby but leaves his finger in Finn’s tiny grasp. 

“So, what did you boys want to tell me?” 

Eliot clears his throat. “So. What we’re about to tell you is a-” 

“Is a secret, yeah, yeah. You told me all this already. Get to the juicy bits.” 

“Hold on. This is serious. We can and will leave and wipe your memory of all of this if you don’t take this seriously. You could get fired if you tell anyone,” Eliot threatens, though he doubts she would. 

Eloise’s face was suddenly very somber. “I understand.” 

“Right. So. The reason I know so much about babies. Um.” Eliot looks over at Quentin, desperate for some sort of backup, but all he gets is a smile and an encouraging little “go on” wave. 

Nothing to say but the truth, right? Eliot takes a deep breath to steady himself and continues, bracing his arms on his knees. “The reason I know so much about babies is because Quentin and I travelled back in time to Fillory in the past and raised a child together.” 

Eloise barks a laugh. “You’re pulling my leg. You just wanted to come see Finn. That’s the best you could come up with, seriously?” 

“He’s telling the truth,” Quentin says quietly. 

Eliot smiles. There's his backup. “His name was Teddy,” Eliot continues, bolstered by Quentin. “We spent 50 years trying to solve one puzzle so we could bring magic back. We got old together, and I /died/. And then Margo unwound time to stop us from going through, and it never happened. But we remember all of it.” 

“All of it?” Eloise asks. 

All of it,” Eliot replies. “The good, the bad, all of it. The croupy baby, the joy of watching Teddy grow up, the sorrow of watching people we love die. We remember all of it, and we shouldn’t. It didn’t happen to us. Not these versions of us at least.” 

“But it did,” Eloise says. 

“What?” Eliot asks, confused. 

“It did happen,” Eloise says firmly. "You both remember it, therefore it happened.” 

Eliot looks up from Finn, surprise painted thick across his face. “You believe us?” 

Eloise shrugs. “Fillory is a strange place and Magic is stranger. Who am I to argue with that?” 

Quentin smiles. “That it is.” 

They spend the next hour or so talking, and both Eliot and Quentin get distracted by the baby multiple times. Eventually, though, little Finn has to go to bed, and Quentin and Eliot take the opening to leave. 

“It was wonderful speaking with you,” Quentin says, smiling. “Eliot’s said many nice things about you and I’m glad you lived up to the hype.” 

“That’s not true,” Eloise says, smiling. 

Quentin laughs. “No, it’s not. Let me amend my statement: I’ve never heard Eliot complain about you, like he does with most other people. A glowing recommendation, really.” 

Eloise’s hand goes to her chest like she’s an old Hollywood starlet grasping at her pearls. “How will I ever recover from such praise from the former High King of Fillory! I might swoon.” 

Eliot attempts to scowl and fails. “All right, you two. This was clearly a mistake, introducing you two to each other. Come on, Q. Let’s go home.” 

Quentin lets himself get pulled along towards the door, still chatting with Eloise like they’re old friends all the while. 

“We should do this again sometime,” Quentin says. “I’d _love to pick your brain on Fillorian politics since the Chatwins left.”_

__

“I’d love to,” Eloise replies. “My ma had all sorts of records and the like for the past _several_ decades. And _I_ would love to pick your brain about more baby tips, both from Fillory in the past _and_ from Earth. I imagine they must be so different from what we do now. You should come by sometime without your Eliot, and we can talk without boring him to death.” 

__

“Ughhhhhhhhhh, can we go already?” Eliot whines, hamming it up for his audience. They’re at the door now; so close to freedom, and yet so far. 

__

Quentin catches up with Eliot, so he isn’t being dragged along any longer and pats him on the arm. “Yes, dear.” Quentin turns back towards the interior of the house and gives a little wave. “See you later, Eloise!” 

__

Eloise waves back. “See you later, Quentin.”

~~~ 

The walk back to the castle is nice. It’s quiet, only broken by the occasional cheer or snippet of music as they pass in front of a tavern. Eliot starts swinging their clasped hands between them, and feels a soft pang of homesickness for their former life with the absence of a tiny Teddy swinging back and forth between them. Eliot smiles at the memory.

“I miss having a kid,” Quentin says wistfully. 

__

“Me too,” Eliot says. “I wish we could go adopt one right now, but everything’s still so damn crazy.” 

Quentin glances at Eliot. “Maybe in a couple years?” He asks hopefully. 

Eliot squeezes his hand. “Yeah baby. I think that sounds great.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me @the-emerald7 on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who don't recognize it, the whole "Poof, poof, poof." thing comes from my favorite scene in Harry Potter, which you can watch [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vL6crSpKEYU),and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZnvjCpwv0Q) or you can just watch the poof bit [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQQvg_InmgA)
> 
> I've already got parts of chapters 2 and 3 written, so I'll be back with chapter 2 soon!
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://the-emerald7.tumblr.com/) and send me some asks! I'm desperately in need of new Magicians friends.


End file.
